


The Patron

by Zhie



Series: Bunniverse [25]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bunniverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 13:40:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7576036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celegorm and Fingon have one of their typical spats, Finrod tries to play peacekeeper, and Fingon's patron is revealed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Patron

**Author's Note:**

> Following 'Natural Born Sprinter', which took a year and several additional months to finish, this was written in about an hour, while chillin' at Mighty Con 2016. Shout outs go to the girls singing the Steven Universe theme song repeatedly, and the woman who kept taking pictures and putting her things on my table as I was writing. Also to the Venom cosplayer who kindly watched my laptop while I got a beverage, because, damn, it was hot in there.

Celegorm yanked a stool out from the table where Fingon and Finrod were sitting. “I heard you started training Artanis.”

“I heard you still have no manners.”

“Boys,” warned Finrod. “Would you care to join us, cousin?” he asked, even after Celegorm was seated with them.

“I just want to talk to him.” Celegorm ignored the platter of food that Finrod readjusted to be equally distant between the three of them. “I thought you were trying to get back into your sport, Findekáno. If you can call all of that prancing around and hanging from bars a sport.”

“I am. I have an audition with a gym tomorrow, in fact.” Fingon folded his napkin and placed it aside.

A lady randomly passed by and set her drink on their table. Finrod looked between the other two and tilted his head. “Do either of you know her?” he asked as she continued to walk to the door to greet some friends.

Finrod received no answer as Celegorm leaned forward and almost put his sleeve into the bowl of mustard. “If you are training Artanis, then you are a coach. If you are a coach, you cannot compete. You of all people should know the rules,” he hissed.

“Different sport, Sunshine,” Fingon countered. “If you actually read the rules…” The rest of his retort was drowned out by the sudden singing of the lady and her friends as they broke into a peppy and slightly unexpected song.

“Do I know her?” Finrod asked himself out loud as he continued to contemplate the seemingly abandoned drink.

“It says you cannot coach and compete if you are coaching track and field,” snarled Celegorm. “I was just on my way to submit a complaint to the athletic committee.”

“Boo hoo hoo, I am so devastated. Never shall I again compete as a high bar jump---“ And again, Fingon’s words were swallowed up as the group started another rollicking song.

Celegorm’s laughter broke into Fingon’s unheard words. “You must be joking! Seriously, Findekáno, it is not just track and field. You have ruined your ‘career’.”

“Go on and tell the committee,” suggest Fingon with laughter of his own. “In fact… let me settle up here, and then I shall come with you. I want to hear their laughter when you put forth this silly accusation.”

“It is true, is it not?” prodded Celegorm.

“I am training her.”

Both Celegorm and Fingon turned to look at Finrod. “Come again?” Celegorm’s eyes were narrowed.

“Ingol, you need not cover for me. I am aware of the consequences, and the rules. Gymnastics allows for coaching when there is no monetary exchange. I am just disqualified from track and field, and I would never compete in races. I am far too refined an athlete,” he said pointedly at Celegorm in the snottiest voice possible.

The random lady passed by again to retrieve her drink without a word to the others.

“Maybe she knows one of our fathers,” mused Finrod.

Celegorm seethed as he stared at Fingon. “Even if you are allowed to coach her, I highly doubt you can coach her and train yourself.”

“Artanis is very low maintenance,” argued Fingon.

Finrod rapped the top of the table with his knuckles. “Again, I am, technically, training her.”

“Ingoldo, stay out of this,” advised Fingon.

“Yes. Do stay out of this,” Celegorm added.

“Normally I would argue, but since I have never seen both of you agree on something before…” Finrod mimed locking his mouth and tossing the key over his shoulder.

Fingon frowned, rubbed his lips, and looked slightly defeated. Celegorm growled and slid down from the stool. “Fine. Have it your way.” He grabbed one of the items from the tray of food without looking at it and stormed out of the pub.

“What was that all about?” demanded Fingon once Celegorm had gone.

Finrod, whose attention was now on the lady and her friends (but, mostly the lady… almost entirely on the lady…), gave a noncommittal, “Hmm… oh, I think he is just trying to shake you and upset that Artanis looks like a real contender for the races next month.”

“No. Not him. I know what goes on in his head. I meant you. I can defend myself when it comes to it,” Fingon said.

“Technically, you could argue I am coaching both of you.”

Fingon groaned and looked up at the ceiling. “You are the benefactor.”

“I prefer, anonymous patron.”

“Ingol. I would have managed.” Fingon’s words were half-hearted. “Thank you,” he added in a lower voice.

“I believe in you. I believe in Artanis, too.” Finrod waved a server over to come and take the food away. “You need a place to practice and you need to be able to do that without worrying how to pay for it.”

“I thought it was Grandfather,” Fingon admitted. “Sorry that you had to lose your anonymity.”

“Just for you. Please do not tell Artanis,” begged Finrod. “She is far too proud, and if she knew it was me—“

“If you prefer it that way, I will say nothing,” vowed Fingon. “However… Tyelkormo will not keep his mouth shut.”

“Tyelkormo is not going to say anything. I know him. He probably thinks that I made it all up. Now, if you will excuse me,” said Finrod as he stood up and tossed a few coins on the table, “I need to go find out just who that bold and jovial lady is.” He clasped Fingon on the shoulder before he walked off to join the group of singing ladies.

**Author's Note:**

> The unnamed lady in the story is Amarië...


End file.
